The Warden's deep gazed pierced through Remirg's eyes, directly affecting the pineal gland resting beneath the cortex. The space between his eyebrows was throbbing slightly, the slightest of uneasiness hitting him.
The Voice of the Simulator; rather the Voice of Reason was still hanging over him, the uncanny ragged voice of the male speaker instilling a sense of acute restlessness in him.
The Voice seemed to be heaving, the tone dreadfully hoarse, as though it was just about to die.
Remirg though, with what seemed to be an unimaginable restraint, maintained his cool and calmed his relentlessness. Now was not the time to be flowing with the river of emotions.
Emotions are a flowing stream.
They can be as still as a simmering pond and as vigorous as a tsunami. The nature of their subtleties is unknown to the very beings who exhibit such torrential behavior. For it is something difficult to control and those who master the art, only two such kinds exist.
